Maea
And it feels like fear
Like I'll disappear
Like I'll disappear
Slash went the knife blade through the quiet air. Maea's foot slipped from the sideways motion and she stopped, correcting her stance before continuing. Again, the same angle, the same speed.
A light snowfall dusted the clean swept ground of the training field, turning the footing treacherous and the ground uncomfortably hard to fall on. Dusk was a blue blanket spread across the landscape and in the city beyond lights were kindling in a few houses. Not that many; more and more of the inhabitants of the Hollowed Grounds were Ascended these days, requiring neither light nor warmth. It made her sad, to think that one day all the houses would remain dark after sundown, even in the middle of Deepfrost.
Slash. This time her footing remained solid, and she turned around. Pivoting one step at a time, around herself. Slash, block. Slash, block.
There was a rhythm to it, she had discovered. Much like her life had fallen into some sort of a rhythm. Rise from a moment of dreamless shutdown, train, change clothes and work for a few hours in the Infirmary alongside Isla. Go back to Amun's pottery workshop to see if he had returned home, change again if necessary and spend hours upon hours in the Atheneum. Sorting books. Pouring over old scrolls. Learning to interpret the scribbled writing of ancient scholars. And whenever her eyes began to swim with letters and she couldn't stand the silence anymore, she might take a stroll over to the VlamVloed, and see if Neron needed a hand in the bar.
If there were hours left in the day, she filled them with more training. Anything to keep from thinking too much. Her mind was the enemy. Rhythm was the key to moving on.
Slash, block, turn. Slash, block, turn.
Entranced by the repetitive motions of this blade dance, it was almost peaceful.
A light snowfall dusted the clean swept ground of the training field, turning the footing treacherous and the ground uncomfortably hard to fall on. Dusk was a blue blanket spread across the landscape and in the city beyond lights were kindling in a few houses. Not that many; more and more of the inhabitants of the Hollowed Grounds were Ascended these days, requiring neither light nor warmth. It made her sad, to think that one day all the houses would remain dark after sundown, even in the middle of Deepfrost.
Slash. This time her footing remained solid, and she turned around. Pivoting one step at a time, around herself. Slash, block. Slash, block.
There was a rhythm to it, she had discovered. Much like her life had fallen into some sort of a rhythm. Rise from a moment of dreamless shutdown, train, change clothes and work for a few hours in the Infirmary alongside Isla. Go back to Amun's pottery workshop to see if he had returned home, change again if necessary and spend hours upon hours in the Atheneum. Sorting books. Pouring over old scrolls. Learning to interpret the scribbled writing of ancient scholars. And whenever her eyes began to swim with letters and she couldn't stand the silence anymore, she might take a stroll over to the VlamVloed, and see if Neron needed a hand in the bar.
If there were hours left in the day, she filled them with more training. Anything to keep from thinking too much. Her mind was the enemy. Rhythm was the key to moving on.
Slash, block, turn. Slash, block, turn.
Entranced by the repetitive motions of this blade dance, it was almost peaceful.
Gets so hard to steer
Yet I go on
Yet I go on
